


Tug

by lotusk



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Awkward Crush, College AU, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Goth Chanyeol, Hair Kink, Hand Jobs, Long Haired Jongin, M/M, Nerd Kyungsoo, Public Sex, Romance, Students, Tsundere Kyungsoo, creative writing students, jongin with braids, lots of frottage otl, public frottage, well almost sex anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 19:37:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6022308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lotusk/pseuds/lotusk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kyungsoo is a no-nonsense college student who lives a quiet, ordinary life filled with studying, assignments and exams. But on Tuesdays and Thursdays, he has Creative Writing classes and he gets to spend time with tall, gorgeous, long-haired Jongin. One Thursday, Jongin shows up with braids and all Kyungsoo can think about is tugging on them ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tug

**Author's Note:**

  * For [teatimetaemint](https://archiveofourown.org/users/teatimetaemint/gifts).



> inspired by [this pic](http://24.media.tumblr.com/23f0839c6dcfb77f263264d09ddcc9b9/tumblr_n468kgJB1H1ra9z5do1_1280.jpg) of wolf era Jongin and a prompt provided by Jenni <3

Kyungsoo's head was teeming with convoluted theorems and meandering mathematical equations, endless names, numbers and facts. These were pretty much the contents of his head on any given evening of any given weekday when semester was in session.

But on Tuesdays and Thursdays he didn't mind the mental congestion so much because on those two nights, he got to take a break from all the dry facts and figures and play with words and images; he got to fill his head with words that were his own. 

The creative writing class was an elective class he'd enrolled in on a whim. Kyungsoo loved words, loved the things people could do with words. He was under no illusions he himself had a way with words, but that didn't stop him from enjoying the class anyway.

If Kyungsoo was being honest though, the main reason why he liked Tuesday and Thursday night writing classes so much was. . .the boy. Wasn't it always about a boy? Or a girl? He hated how clichéd it was but it didn't change the fact that seeing the boy was what had his limbs buzzing with bubbles of anticipation for hours before his writing classes—so much so that suddenly all the facts and figures didn't seem quite as dull and dusty as they usually did.

**Tuesday, Week 1, Lecture**

On the day of the first Creative Writing lecture of the semester, Kyungsoo had been one of the first students to reach the class (which was no surprise because Kyungsoo always wanted a seat in front with a good vantage point of the board because he was short), and he had picked a seat in the third row, right next to the window.

He'd barely sat down before students began wandering in, some purposefully and some listlessly—but all slowly filling all the available seats. They seemed like a pretty diverse bunch with dashes of hipster and Goth, nerd and jock. As far as Kyungsoo was concerned, he firmly belonged in the pure nerd category with his glasses and boring haircut and nondescript clothing. And he was perfectly okay with that. Perfectly.

It was about four minutes before the hour when the boy walked in. He was tall, maybe around six feet tall? And he had broad, angular shoulders and a lean, long body which moved with fluid, catlike grace. His clothes weren't showy—just a normal white hoodie and faded jeans. No, what made him stand out was the straight, long black hair that ended about an inch above his shoulder. He'd pulled back half of it carelessly with a rubber band while the rest of it tumbled around his neck in messy strands. Twin hoops of fine silver hugged the lobes of finely formed ears, and his face. . .

Kyungsoo wasn't the sort who had the time or urge to check out other boys (and girls interested him not at all). There would be time enough for crushes and relationships when he'd made it through university— _summa cum laude_ —but for now, academia was all he had space for in his life and that was how he liked it. But even though Kyungsoo was not the sort to check out other boys, he couldn't stop himself from staring at the boy who walked in just minutes before the hour.

 _He's beautiful_.

There was no questioning this fact. Kyungsoo might not have known how to classify him—he didn't look like a hipster or a jock or a skater and he was definitely neither nerd nor Goth—but what he did know was that the boy was extremely handsome. From his exotic brown eyes and strong jaw to his plush, sensual lips and skin the shade of washed cinnamon, the boy was everything that was beautiful.

His eyes scanned the room in a relaxed manner—clearly looking for an empty spot. And Kyungsoo tried not to blink when the good looking stranger sank into the seat right in front of his. He'd pegged him for one of those students who took up permanent residence in the back of the class and proceeded to power nap their way through the semester.

Curious, Kyungsoo turned around and sure enough, there were still four to five empty seats in the last row. What was the boy doing in the second row? _This makes no sense_. And as Kyungsoo contemplated all of this agitatedly, a deep, rich voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Hey, you got a spare pen or pencil I could borrow?" 

Who came to a writing class without a pen or pencil?! He had to be a slacker.

"Um," Kyungsoo was too shocked to say anything else. 

"I promise I'll give it back." The boy chuckled and it was a low, husky sound that made Kyungsoo's belly feel all warm.

"I wasn't worried that you wouldn't give it back." Kyungsoo snorted. Finally, the gears in his brain were engaging. He'd gone quite stupid from the boy's nearness and it was mortifying, to be very honest.

"So are you going to lend it to me? Because I really don't have anything to write with. Please?" 

Kyungsoo sighed. At least he didn't seem like an asshole and was asking nicely. He took a ballpoint pen from his pencil case and handed it to the boy.

"Thanks. I'm Kai, by the way." He gave a slow smile that somehow managed to be enigmatic as he took the pen from Kyungsoo's fingers. Kyungsoo refused to call his smile sexy because he didn't find it sexy at all. Not one bit.

"I'm Kyungsoo." 

Before Kai could respond, their course lecturer walked in. With longish dirty blond hair and rimless spectacles with blue lenses, jeans and a beige sports jacket, the middle-aged man was of a totally different breed from Kyungsoo's ill-dressed, ill-groomed Engineering Faculty lecturers. The man leaned back, half sitting on the corner of his desk as his tan leather satchel slid onto the desk with a low thud.

"Good evening, everyone. I'm Dr. Spindler." He spoke in a British accent with crisp, sharp edges and Kyungsoo tried to listen as attentively as he did in all his courses. But for some reason, he was having trouble focusing and he didn't know what was distracting him more: the periwinkle blue tinted glass of his lecturer's spectacles or the way Kai's glossy black hair clung to his tanned neck. . .

• • •

As far as introductory classes went, it was an interesting one. Dr. Spindler seemed to know his stuff and even had a handful of published novels to his name—not that Kyungsoo had heard of them, but that was to be expected because they were of the literary persuasion and Kyungsoo was more of a fantasy/sci-fi reader. He made a mental note to read at least one of Dr. Spindler's novels in the coming weeks because it seemed like a sensible thing to do? He wondered if Kai had read any of his novels.

Speaking of Kai, the boy had been riveted for the duration of the 45-minute lecture: scribbling down notes and sitting quietly and listening. Kyungsoo had just assumed (he had to stop making assumptions about people; it was a filthy habit) Kai would be the restless sort, the kind of person who was slightly hyperactive and who needed to be outside doing things, the sort who fidgeted when confined within four walls. But Kai had been so. . .still. And Kyungsoo usually hated it when he ended up sitting behind people who were taller than him. But Kai had slumped into his chair in such a way that he hadn't obscured Kyungsoo's view at all. Unfortunately, it was a move that brought his nape closer to Kyungsoo and he had spent far too much of the class trying not to think about how perfectly formed it was, and about how the not-quite shoulder length raven hair looked so soft and inviting.

• • •

When Dr. Spindler was distributing the recommended reading list at the end of the session, Kai finally turned around, his slim torso twisting so he could face Kyungsoo.

"Thanks for the pen, Kyungsoo." He said as he handed the black ballpoint pen back to its owner. He had long, slender fingers. Artistic looking.

"No problem." Kyungsoo said, trying not to feel thrilled that someone as good looking as Kai had actually remembered his name. 

"Hey, I was wondering, if you're in the Thursday 6pm tutorial group. . .if you get here before me, could you like reserve this seat for me?"

"I. . .sure. I mean if I get here early enough."

"Thanks, dude." Kai's smile was gratitude and pleasure all interweaved and twisted together and it was a little blinding to look at. 

"You're welcome." 

"Great. So, I guess I'll see you on Thursday, Kyungsoo." Kai said and then he was gone in a series of smooth, unhurried movements. 

Kyungsoo just sat there for a while. Unable to move. And he didn't want to analyze why. Not at all.

• • •

**Thursday, Week 1, Tutorial**

"Is this seat taken?" A rumbling baritone shook Kyungsoo out of his reverie. He looked up to see a very tall, gangly boy dressed in a ripped black tee, black leather jacket embedded with zippers, buckles and studs, and ripped black jeans (what was with all the ripped clothing? It was fall! The boy was going to fucking freeze to death or at the very least get pneumonia or maybe rheumatism). His large eyes were made even larger by the dramatic kohl eyeliner he used, and his black, emo fringe fell untidily over his eyes. Kyungsoo couldn't help staring at the edgy deep purple streaks in the boy's hair. Multiple silver rings adorned both lobes and a phalanx of filigree rings adorned his fingers.

"I said is this seat taken?" The boy repeated slowly and loudly like he was talking to someone who was either hard of hearing or mentally challenged.

"Chanyeol! This seat is mine. See? That's my ballpoint right there." Kai had fortunately appeared before Kyungsoo had to figure out how to hold off the intimidating Goth. 

"But I want to sit next to the window."

"You know you're too tall to sit in front of Kyungsoo. He wouldn't be able to see a thing with a skyscraper blocking his view."

"Oi, you're not exactly petite yourself, Kai," Chanyeol growled.

"I'm flexible though, dude, so I'm practically lying down in the chair, see? Kyungsoo can see the board perfectly fine with me sitting here. Am I right?" He looks at Kyungsoo expectantly.

"Um, yeah. Sure." Kyungsoo agreed awkwardly.

"Whatever," Chanyeol grunted and sat down two chairs away from Kai.

"Thanks for reserving the seat for me," Kai smiled. 

"It was nothing. I got here early so. . ." Shrugging, Kyungsoo watched Kai quietly.

"You think you could do it every week? Please? And for Tuesday lectures too?"

"What? Can't you get here early yourself?" 

"I've got an Art History lecture at The Octagon Theatre which ends fifteen minutes before this one begins. And on Thursdays, I've the same situation at The Tattersall Theatre. Come on, Kyungsoo, help a guy out? Please?" Kai named lecture halls located on opposite ends of the campus and it didn't take much convincing before Kyungsoo caved, nodding in what he hoped was a reluctant manner. 

"Thanks. Um, can I borrow this?" Kai held up the ballpoint pen Kyungsoo had left on his desk as a place marker.

Kyungsoo was stupefied—the boy was a college student, how did he not have any stationery? But in the end, all he said was a quiet yes and Kai's eyes lit up in a grin which made Kyungsoo's toes curl. . . _just a little bit_. Embarrassed, he pushed his glasses further up his nose and looked down at the blank, lined paper of his note pad. The only thing he'd written were the date and the words: _Creative Writing 315 Dr. V. Spindler_.

He heard Kai calling his name again and looked up, but before he could find out what it was about, Dr. Spindler appeared and then they were being asked to do 5 minutes of free writing on the topic: _ATTRACTION_ , and then there was no chance to speak at all.

Kyungsoo bit his lower lip and tried to let his mind relax and send out feelers. _ATTRACTION_. . . What did the word even mean to him? What the fuck was he going to write about for the next 5 minutes? Slowly, he looked up and saw the column of tanned skin partially concealed by soft strands of jet black hair which stopped just short of kissing his shoulders. Kai's head was bent down in concentration and he didn't seem to be having any problem getting words out and onto paper as he wrote and wrote and wrote—the fine rings of silver glinting in slender earlobes. Kyungsoo stared at the page before him—the only word he'd written down was ATTRACTION. 

He reviewed what Dr. Spindler had said: _Don't think too much about what you want to write. Just say the topic word in your head and write. It can be random sentences. Things don't need to make sense together—they just have to somehow connect to the idea of attraction. Don't plan, just write. That's what it means to freewrite._

Lower lip between his teeth, Kyungsoo scratched the patch of scalp above his left ear for exactly two seconds (which was his habit when he was thinking hard), then he put pencil to paper and wrote:

_Attraction is miles and miles of caramel skin. Attraction is long black hair caressing the neck. Attraction is a square jaw and generous lips. Attraction is smiling mocha brown eyes. Attraction is strong broad shoulders and long long legs and a warm smile. Attraction is. . .hiding in plain sight._

Kyungsoo wrote it all down in a rush and then he stared at the paragraph he'd produced. The words must have just flowed from the ink on their own because he never wrote stuff like that. He usually wrote lab reports and term papers—he never drew pictures with his words. Really dry stuff, that's what he wrote. Where had these words even come from? 

As he gradually absorbed the words he'd written, Kyungsoo realized he had just described the boy sitting a mere foot away from him and why had he done it? He wasn't attracted to Kai. Not at all. What the hell was up with that? Then he forced all the questions out of his head and slammed the door as he made himself concentrate on the tutorial instead of caramel skin, long black hair and strong, broad shoulders. . .

• • •

"Are you hungry?" Kai's chocolatey voice was warm and open as it interrupted Kyungsoo's thoughts. He was packing up his things—making sure his papers were properly filed away and his stationery snugly zipped away in a large, black pencil case.

"Huh?"

"I'm going to get some food after this, you wanna join me? I hate eating alone so I was thinking. . ."

"I usually just grab a quick meal before heading for the Engineering Library," Kyungsoo said noncommittally. 

"We could eat at the café on the ground floor—what about it?"

"I'm not sure. . ." 

"I'll buy you coffee?" Kai offered persuasively.

"I suppose I need to eat too." Kyungsoo finally relented.

• • •

"So what course are you doing?" Kai's tone was conversational as he stirred some creamer into his coffee. The coffee in this café was virtually toxic—it was THAT bitter. But Kyungsoo needed caffeine any way he could get it and he wasn't going to turn down free coffee so he'd drink it even if it was like drinking battery acid.

"Engineering."

"I'm doing Fine Arts. Are you a second year student too?"

"Third." Kyungsoo gave the one word answer before taking another forkful of over-salted fettuccine Alfredo.

"You don't say much, do you Kyungsoo?" Kai watched him curiously as he chewed his food. Kyungsoo was relieved to see that Kai didn't gobble his food, chew with his mouth open or talk with his mouth full. It would seriously have diminished his desirability factor if he'd had any or all of those habits— _not_ that Kyungsoo found him at all desirable.

"Well, if there's something worth saying, I'll say it."

"Do you live on campus?" 

"Yeah."

"Which dorm?"

"Sycamore."

"That's just next door to mine. I'm at Cypress," Kai offered the information as he took another bite of his roast beef sandwich.

"Ok," Kyungsoo nodded, twirling the long, flat pasta into as neat a ball as he could manage before popping it into his mouth.

"It's like pulling teeth!" Kai laughed and it was a warm velvety sound, his eyes glinting with a mixture of humor and fascination.

"I'm just. . .not really. . .a sparkling conversationalist."

"I'm sure you are—you just haven't decided whether you like me enough to make the effort to converse yet," Kai said confidently.

"Nope, I'm not. I am actually THIS boring. _All_ the time." Kyungsoo snorted. 

"I don't believe you." 

"I'm serious, Kai. This is me."

"Ah, about my name. Most people call me Kai but Jongin is my real name. I like Jongin better and I'd like you to call me Jongin." It was a college café so ambience wasn't a priority, but the harsh glow of the overhead fluorescent lights still bounced prettily of the four silver hoops that encircled Kai's ear lobes. 

Kyungsoo's eyes were drawn to his neck and the way a few strands of long, straight fine hair always clung to it. Why was he so affected by Kai's hair? He'd never even found long hair attractive on guys. There was that thing Dr. Spindler had asked them to freewrite on again— _attraction_. Was he attracted to Kai? It had to be his hair. It was unusual and that's why Kyungsoo found himself compelled to stare at it. That had to be it, right?

"Jong-in," Kyungsoo enunciated carefully, "I like it. It suits you. But how did you end up being called Kai?"

"When I was in high school, my friends and I played Cardfight Vanguard and watched the anime and my favorite character was Toshiki Kai. Stupid but we used to call each other by the names of the characters we liked best. We haven't been into that for years but in my case, Kai kinda stuck. And my friends usually introduce me to new people as Kai so it's kinda become like a habit. My friends and I basically do a lotta dumb ass things when we get together." Jongin sounded a little sheepish towards the end of his explanation.

"Toshiki Kai huh? Why him? My favorite character was Aichi Sendou."

"Oh my God, you played too?" Jongin leaned forward, forearms pressing against the edge of the table with nervous energy radiating off him in waves, "Why was Aichi your favorite?" 

"Well," Kyungsoo began and just like that, they spoke animatedly for half an hour about Cardfight Vanguard and Jongin discovered that Kyungsoo could definitely be a conversationalist if he wanted. Perhaps not quite sparkling, but definitely not boring.

• • •

"Shit, is it 8? I need to get some studying done!" Kyungsoo's eyebrows shot up when he glimpsed the industrial style clock on the wall. How had he lost track of time so badly?

"So I guess I'll see you on Tuesday night then?" Jongin said with a hopeful look in his eyes. 

"I guess." 

"Will you reserve that seat for me?" Jongin grinned.

"If I get there early enough I suppose." Kyungsoo shrugged, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible.

"Thanks," a lazy smile formed on Jongin's lips.

"I'm not promising anything."

"Thanks, anyway." Jongin smiled and Kyungsoo was mesmerized by the laughter lines forming around his eyes and mouth. His smile was such a beautiful thing. 

As Kyungsoo was about to exit the café, he turned around to take a final look at Jongin and found him staring right back. Heart racing a little, he turned away and walked through the glass door. A single word echoed through his mind as he climbed the stairs to the first floor of the library. . . _ATTRACTION_.

 

**Tuesday, Week 2, Lecture**

"Do you want to venture a bit further for dinner tonight, Kyungsoo? I mean no offense, but the Engineering Library café is pretty uninspiring." Jongin seated himself again so he was facing Kyungsoo, his jean-clad thighs straddling the back of the chair. He leaned closer to Kyungsoo's desk and the ever present strands of black swung back and forth hypnotically, not quite touching his shoulders. 

"Who says we're having dinner together?"

"Well, we both gotta eat anyway?" Jongin chuckled. He tucked a few strands of hair behind his ear but a few escaped and Kyungsoo had to stop himself from reaching out to tuck the loose strands behind Jongin's ear.

"I've got a lot of studying to do tonight."

"Just a quick bite, I promise."

"Really quick." Kyungsoo tried to frown in what he hoped was an intimidating way.

"Promise," he said solemnly before asking if he could borrow a pen.

"Are you serious, Jongin?" Kyungsoo narrowed his eyes. "How do you get through the day with no pen or pencil on you?" Kyungsoo's voice was rife with disbelief.

"I never said I didn't have a pen or pencil," Jongin said cryptically.

"Then why are you asking to borrow mine?"

"I just want to." Jongin's eyes were locked on his and they flashed with something that felt a lot like a challenge.

"But why would you w—"

"Good evening, I hope you're all ready for today's lecture." Dr. Spindler's stenorous voice filled the classroom and all conversation ceased.

"Please?" Jongin whispered, holding his palm out. Sighing, Kyungsoo dropped a black ballpoint pen onto his waiting, open palm. "Thank you," he mouthed as Kyungsoo gave him an extremely aggrieved look.

• • •

After class, they ended up eating at Basil Leaf Café located between the Engineering Faculty Library and the Science Faculty Library. As Jongin had done the week before, he paid for Kyungsoo's coffee—which was an unnecessarily generous payment for the loan of his ballpoint. Guiltily, Kyungsoo made a mental note to pay for Jongin's coffee the next time they are together— _if_ there was a next time.

Kyungsoo was a little less cagey this time so they spoke of Cardfight Vanguard and other things they enjoyed—things they wanted to do after college, music they liked, courses they were taking, and why they were doing creative writing. They ended up eating till 8pm again but Kyungsoo didn't really mind as much as he let on. 

Over the weeks, they learnt more and more about each other as they ate dinner together after lectures and tutorials? Through it all, despite Jongin's efforts to draw him out of his shell, Kyungsoo tried his best to stay aloof. He still couldn't figure out why a good looking, cool guy like Kim Jongin would bother with a nerd like himself. It just made no sense. 

So seeing as it didn't seem logical, it was just better not to get too attached to the boy. As it was, he enjoyed his company far too much—his warm and witty personality and the fact that they could talk about anything and everything, and the fact that things never seemed awkward between them. No, it wasn't a good idea to get attached at all.

Kyungsoo still struggled during every creative writing class, to keep his fingers from reaching out to stroke silken, black hair. The first time he'd laid eyes on Jongin, his hair hadn't reached his shoulders, but now the ends grazed the tops of his shoulders; Kyungsoo's urge to run his fingers through that hair and wrap a skein of it around his hand was becoming stronger and more intense.

The irony had not escaped him when Dr. Spindler had asked them to freewrite on TEMPERANCE. God knew each Creative Writing class was an exercise in self control, where Kyungsoo had to constantly battle the need to touch Jongin's hair. He often found himself wondering what it smelt like. He liked to think that it smelt nice—it certainly looked clean and lustrous and. . .and he really really had to stop fixating on his coursemate's hair (and his neck and shoulders and everything else about Jongin if he were brutally honest with himself) and start focusing more on Dr. Spindler. 

Sighing frustratedly, Kyungsoo tried to bring his mind back to the library and focus on the engineering theorems on the page before him. No time for navel gazing now. Or Jongin gazing as the case may be, he shook his head at himself.

**Thursday, Week 4, Tutorial**

No matter how many times Kyungsoo read over the sentence he'd written, it didn't flow right. He needed Jongin to look at it. Jongin had a fluid, elegant way with words and he always knew how to tweak a sentence so that it sounded better and rolled off the tongue more smoothly. And so it was that Kyungsoo was so engrossed in examining his problematic sentence that he didn't immediately look up when the room erupted in oohs and ahs.

"DUDE!" Kyungsoo heard Chanyeol's booming voice and finally looked up. His tanned face tinged an attractive shade of pink, Jongin was making his way towards his usual seat in front of Kyungsoo. But something was different about him—aside from the fact that Jongin was blushing when Kyungsoo had not seen Jongin blush once in the time he'd known him. Something was very different. 

"Kai, what happened, man?" Chanyeol asked curiously.

"I don't wanna talk about it." Jongin slumped down in his seat.

"But it's like an extreme makeover? It's mandatory to talk about it," Chanyeol persisted.

And that's when it finally sunk in. The way Jongin's hair fell around his shoulders was different. The straight, silky raven black hair hung in warrior braids that ended just above the shoulder. Kyungsoo missed the soft fall of Jongin's hair against his neck and shoulders, so a part of him resented the new braids. But a much bigger part of him didn't dislike them at all. He couldn't stop staring at the way they rippled sinuously across Jongin's neck and shoulders—the same way a bead curtain moved when you stuck your hand in and parted it. 

"Kyungsoo?" Jongin had turned around to face him, his features dipped in mild apprehension, "Do you hate it?"

"No, I. . ." Kyungsoo handed Jongin a ballpoint pen as he always did before he began answering. But then he was interrupted by Dr. Spindler's arrival. After some preamble, the lecturer gave them their freewriting topic, and when Kyungsoo saw the word, he wanted to die. 

Spindler had to be fucking joking! How was he going to write about BLISS for five whole minutes with Jongin so close by? Jongin's chair was pushed further back than usual and today, he was slumped really low in his seat so that the braids spilled over the back of his chair in the most alluring way. 

It took everything for Kyungsoo not to run his hands through them. Determinedly, he looked away from Jongin's hair and stared at his loose leaf instead. His pen nib lay poised above the paper for a few seconds as he thought about what to write, then the nib was seamlessly skating over the surface of the paper.

_Running your hands through long, braided hair. . .Feeling the texture of each braid between your fingertips and tugging it. . .Trailing your fingers over the curve of your lover's ear, the hard curve of his jaw, the soft curve of his neck. . .Holding his shoulders with your hands and reaching up to kiss his lips. . .Sliding your tongue into his mouth like you're coming home. This is bliss. This is bliss._

The pen, when Kyungsoo dropped it on the table, was loud. _So loud_.

Once, when Kyungsoo was eighteen, he'd had to drive through a rain storm and there had been a point where his car had aquaplaned and he had lost complete control of his vehicle. It had been the most terrifying experience of his life. He might have had his hands at the wheel and his foot on the gas pedal, but he had been nothing but a passenger. Fortunately, he'd had nothing but open road before him, and after five to six seconds, the steering wheel felt less like it was floating and weightless, and Kyungsoo could feel the traction coming back to his tires. 

He was _safe_ , thank God—but for those few moments, he'd known what it was like to have no control over your car and no control over your own safety and fate. Kyungsoo now felt a bit like he had the day he'd aquaplaned, except there was no sense of fear today. . .there was only desire.

Maybe it was the act of putting the words on paper, bold and black against the whiteness of the page, that had delivered the final blow to Kyungsoo's self restraint because he suddenly found his hand moving forward and he was powerless to stop it. Gently, he wrapped his fingers around a few of the glossy braids. He closed his eyes and his senses were flooded with the coarse, yet paradoxically smooth texture of the braids. The bumps pressed persuasively into his skin; Jongin's hair felt so good between his fingertips. 

Feeling like he was aquaplaning again, Kyungsoo inhaled deeply and. . .tugged. 

_Bliss. This is bliss._

• • •

There was no mistaking the small, low moan Jongin made as Kyungsoo pulled gently on the hair twined around his fingers. For a single, blinding moment, Kyungsoo was horrified. He'd never even touched Jongin's hair before this and here he was with skinny braids wrapped around his fingers and he was tugging on them, _without permission_. It was such a weird and invasive thing to do and what if Jongin was so disturbed he never spoke to him again?

The very idea of Jongin never speaking to him made his heartbeat spike and the blood rush away from his fingers and toes—leaving them cold and numb. Kyungsoo waited anxiously for Jongin to show anger or disgust or at the very least, confusion. But all he did was stay quiet after the initial moan, seeming to yield to his touch as he let his head drop closer towards Kyungsoo's hand.

 _I should let go_. Kyungsoo knew he should release his grip on Jongin's braids right away, but. . .his fingers refused to cooperate. They were in a classroom surrounded by twenty-two other students—what was he even thinking? What was he doing? Was everyone staring? He didn't even dare turn around to investigate. It was a miracle Park Chanyeol hadn't already made some loud remark about kinky foreplay or worse. And Spindler could look up and see and—what the fuck was wrong with him? Why had he done this? More importantly, why had he done it where everyone could see?

As he began, very reluctantly, to release the glossy twists of hair, Kyungsoo was arrested by a desperate whisper, "Don't."

"Don't? I don't underst—don't what?"

"Don't let go." He couldn't see Jongin's face but the broken whisper somehow made him think the other boy's eyes were closed.

"We're in class." It was a dumb thing to say but Kyungsoo's brain wasn't really working at the moment.

"Can we. . .can we talk about this later?" Jongin's husky voice was soft—softer than Kyungsoo had ever heard it—pleading almost. They'd known each other for weeks and shared many dinner conversations but Jongin had never once come close to begging him for anything. It was making Kyungsoo feel all kinds of things he couldn't put a name to. Dangerous things. 

"I don't think that's a good idea," Kyungsoo said warily as he finally relinquished his hold on Jongin's hair and the braids swung free, untethered and lustrous. Kyungsoo couldn't stop staring at the seductive, alluring braids.

"Please?"

"I—"

"Please?" The low whisper caught at something inside Kyungsoo's chest and he found his mouth forming the words, _all right, Jongin_ even though his head was yelling _no_ insistently. 

"You mean that?"

"Yes." 

"Thank you." The relief in Jongin's voice was almost palpable.

• • •

_Tap_. The sound of plastic being placed politely on desk surface.

Kyungsoo looked up from his lecture notes. The borrowed black ballpoint lay two inches away from his hand as he crossed a last 't' and dotted a final 'i'. It was a miracle he'd even managed to write anything down when his mind had been anywhere but here.

"Can we go somewhere?" 

"I can't. I have a lecture after this," Kyungsoo lied.

"It's Thursday. You don't have lectures till 10am tomorrow," Jongin said quietly and Kyungsoo sighed. When had the boy even found time to memorize his lecture schedule? He'd mentioned class times sporadically over the weeks but he'd never expected Jongin to commit anything to memory. He could have made some excuse about having a test to study for but he knew he owed it to Jongin to talk about the rude thing he'd done. Nodding, Kyungsoo began to carefully store his books and stationery—refusing to look up. Not even once.

"I saw what you did there, Kyungsoo. Smooth." Chanyeol gave him a thumbs up as he walked past in his signature ripped, black jeans. He wore hematite spikes through his ears today, teamed with a glittery titanium-colored shirt—one with no rips in it, unfortunately, so the idiot wouldn't be contracting pneumonia today. It gave Kyungsoo some satisfaction to note that there were some holes in Chanyeol's black anorak. Unfortunately, they didn't appear to be life threatening. _What a fucking shame_ , Kyungsoo sighed internally. 

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean?" Kyungsoo tried to sound nonchalant but he was pretty sure he was failing at it. 

"That thing you did with Kai's hair. Niiiice. Like foreplay, right?"

"Wow, okay, you need to go now, Park Chanyeol," Jongin's hands landed heavily on his shoulders, shoving Chanyeol along despite the Goth's vocal protests that he wasn't done talking to Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo could practically feel the mortification radiating off Jongin in waves as Chanyeol asked him (at the top of his voice) if he had some kind of hair fetish and also, "did you get a boner when Do Kyungsoo yanked your hair like that?"

There were, of course, the inevitable giggles and chuckles from around the room and Kyungsoo prayed for the floor to open up and swallow him whole. How humiliated must Jongin be feeling right now? And it was all his fault. Why hadn't he resisted the lure of Jongin's braids? Why hadn't he kept his fingers to himself? And most important of all, why had he pulled Jongin’s hair? He’d wanted to all semester but he’d managed to box all those desires away—why had he lost it so badly today? 

_WHY?_

"OhmygodshutupChanyeolyoudumbfuck," he could just hear Jongin muttering under his breath as he pushed Chanyeol out the door. "Seriously, shut up, Park!" 

Kyungsoo kept his eyes fixed on the sheets of ink-filled loose leaf he was filing away, refusing to look at Jongin at all. Before he knew it, Jongin was standing in front of his desk—just like he'd done for weeks, waiting for Kyungsoo to stand up and join him. It should have been so comfortingly familiar and yet. . .it wasn't. Things were the same and yet, Kyungsoo knew instinctively that they were forever changed. Jongin's hair wasn't the only thing in this room that had undergone a transformation. Something clenched, low in Kyungsoo’s gut, as the braids caressed the tops of Jongin's shoulders—the deep black of his hair contrasting dramatically with the vibrant indigo of his hoodie.

Finally, Kyungsoo ran out of things to pack away and he stood up, backpack strap slung over one shoulder. A few steps later, he was standing in front of Jongin, whose fingers were playing with the single chain that hung from his belt and draped across the black denim covering his left thigh. Made from what looked like steel, it trapped the light in an eye catching way, and Kyungsoo liked how it looked on Jongin, even though he normally found wallet chains kind of try-hard. 

"Hi," Jongin greeted him like he always did after class. But while he normally sounded easy and carefree and confident, tonight was. . .different. Tonight, his _hi_ was riddled with uncertainty.

"I don't have time tonight to hang out," Kyungsoo said quickly and for a moment, he thought he saw disappointment flit across Jongin's handsome features.

"I'll try to be quick."

"Okay," Kyungsoo agreed warily.

• • •

"It's cold." A pointless thing to say, but the silence was making Kyungsoo slightly uneasy. They usually chatted in a mostly uninterrupted stream as they walked from class, but Jongin was all reticent tonight and Kyungsoo was just a giant ball of awkward because he'd pulled on his friend's hair uninvited.

"Can we—" 

"Yes?"

"Can we talk about what happened just now?" Jongin asked finally.

"I'm sorry I did that. It was wrong. I. . .I don't know what came over me. I'm sorry, Jongin. It was rude."

"But why did you do it?" He held Kyungsoo by the elbow and steered him across the lawn before pulling him in the direction of a copse of trees. Kyungsoo left the question unanswered as he concentrated on not tripping over uneven ground in his attempt to keep up with Jongin. He normally adjusted the length of his strides to match Kyungsoo’s but Jongin was clearly distracted tonight; it wasn't like Kyungsoo could blame him. It wasn’t every day some weirdo pulled your hair in class. He was going to be mad at himself for doing that for a _long_ time—a really long time. 

“Kyungsoo, why?” Jongin asked again as they finally came to a stop amidst a cluster of imposingly tall trees, dark and brooding in the falling night.

"It's beautiful. Your hair is beautiful," Kyungsoo admitted, eyes to the ground. The moonlight threaded through the ginkgo trees, casting tiny, fan-shaped shadows on the grass and the backs of their hands.

"Was it only tonight that you found it beautiful?" Jongin was watching him now in the dim glow of the moon and the shitty campus lighting. It was too dark to really see, but he seemed troubled. For a few seconds, Kyungsoo considered denying long weeks of attraction but in the end, he really didn't want to lie to him. Maybe the truth would freak Jongin out but he deserved to hear it anyway. 

"No."

"But why did you touch it tonight? It was the braids, right?"

"I've. . .wanted to touch your hair for a while now."

"What if my hair had been the way it's always been?"

"It was a matter of time, I think? It would have taken longer but it would've happened eventually. The braids just kinda accelerated things," Kyungsoo said honestly and some of the anxiety seemed to leave Jongin's face at his answer. Biting his bottom lip, Jongin seemed to be contemplating what to say or do next and Kyungsoo was struck yet again by how beautiful his mouth was—the plumpness of his lips and the memory of his warm smile. And even though it was too dark amidst the trees, Kyungsoo had spent enough time watching Jongin across café tables to remember the exact shade of macchiato those lips were and he hated that he wanted to have those lips beneath his own, hated that he wanted to taste the inside of Jongin’s mouth. 

There was no time in his life for. . .entanglements of any kind. His life revolved around books and reports and assignments and deadlines—no time for racing hearts and sweaty palms and stolen kisses. No time at all. He needed to sit far, far away from Kim Jongin in the next Creative Writing class. 

_That’s what I’ll do. That should make everything stop._

“What was it like? Pulling my hair, I mean, what was it like?” Absentmindedly, Jongin tugged none too gently on the ends of his braids and Kyungsoo couldn’t stop staring—just like he couldn’t stop the next words from spilling out his mouth.

“Bliss, it was bliss. And—" closing his eyes, Kyungsoo finally surrendered the last remaining shreds of his pride and confessed, "I-I want to do it again. I want to touch your hair again. I want to pull it again."

Maybe Jongin saw something in his eyes because he said in a voice as soft as sea foam, "You can touch them. . .if you want." It was really too dark to tell but the tips of Jongin's ears seemed flushed. His ears were another thing Kyungsoo could spend countless minutes studying—how they were so finely formed and looked all pretty with small silver hoops strung through his lobes.

"I liked it so much the first time you did it. And I hope you'll do it again."

And Kyungsoo wanted to. So fucking much. But he couldn't. He was determined to leave university with a 4.0 CGPA—3.67 at worst. He didn't have time for distractions in the form of a beautiful boy with long hair he wanted to stroke and a nape he wanted to leave kisses on, and broad shoulders he wanted to lean on _so fucking much_.

"I can't."

"Why not?" Jongin took his hand, and moved slightly closer so their thighs were separated by only a bare sliver of space. 

"Too many reasons."

"You won't tell me?" 

"I don't really know how. But it all goes back to I'm here to study and I need to focus on that," Kyungsoo sighed as Jongin covered that last bit of distance so their shoulders made contact and their thighs too. Then it was the most natural thing in the world for Kyungsoo to lean in and have Jongin wrap his arms around his shoulders. 

"Is this okay?" Jongin asked, tentative. 

"Yes," Kyungsoo whispered, even though Jongin's braids were tickling his cheek and it really _wasn't okay_ that he desperately wanted to grab them again. 

"Please touch my hair. I really want you to. I want it so much I don't know how to tell you," and then Jongin didn't try to say anything else and just leaned in, and Kyungsoo could feel his hot breath fanning across his neck and hear the soft whispery sounds the braids made as they rippled against each other. He knew this was madness and that he would regret everything later but he didn't care anymore. 

_Nothing matters anymore_ , he thought, as he reached for Jongin's hair. _Nothing matters but this_. 

The braids were coarse and yet silky against his skin and he held them up so he could breathe in their scent; he’d wondered for weeks what Jongin’s hair smelt like and his body was humming with anticipation as he inhaled. Peppermint. And something elusive he didn’t recognize. The tips tickled his cheek and jaw as he let the hair fall and he tried to ignore the tightening deep in his groin as the hair brushed across his skin, tried to ignore how close Jongin’s face was to his neck. He could almost feel the pressure of his lips even if they weren't actually touching him.

“Please, Kyungsoo,” Jongin didn’t explain what he was asking for, he didn't really need to. The low, warm caramel tones of his voice worsened the ache down below and Kyungsoo tightened his grip on the gleaming jet hair. 

"Oh," Jongin moaned against his neck and Kyungsoo didn't have to imagine anymore because those plush lips were on his skin. "Don't stop," Jongin whispered as he mouthed heated skin, tongue painting wet patterns on it. Kyungsoo stifled his own moans as the sensations traveled right down—his nipples turning hard and his cock stiffening. Why was his body responding so quickly? This never happened to him. He’d never had much of a libido so he couldn't even recognize his own body or its intense reactions to Jongin's touch.

“Please,” Jongin whispered again. . .just before he carefully removed Kyungsoo’s glasses and his lips fit gently over Kyungsoo’s and his tongue swept in, exploring the contours of his mouth and teasing his tongue. 

This was nothing like the clumsy kisses he’d exchanged with the neighbor kid or his high school ex. Kyungsoo had always thought he couldn’t kiss but maybe, maybe he just hadn’t been kissing the right person. He felt like he was drowning, lost, as Jongin kissed him—his hands holding his face, thumbs caressing his cheeks. He could feel Jongin’s arousal, could feel the hardness against his thigh and he had to stop himself from reaching for it. 

And that’s when he remembered what had brought them here in the first place. Taking a deep breath, he tugged on Jongin’s hair—not so hard that it would hurt but not gently either—and Jongin moaned into his mouth, loud and unrestrained, his cock twitching in his pants. Kyungsoo had felt it move against his thigh when he’d pulled Jongin’s hair. 

Instinct guiding him, his free hand grabbed hold of the steel chains and dragged Jongin closer. Their chests met, the momentum pushing Kyungsoo backwards till he felt rough tree bark behind him. Still holding the chains, Kyungsoo drew Jongin further in till their hips clashed. Kyungsoo watched as Jongin closed his eyes and swiveled his hips, rubbing up against him—braids swinging. It felt so good. Jongin felt so good and he groaned into Jongin’s chest as they moved together. 

It was further than he’d ever gone with anyone and he didn’t even know where this was going. What was he doing? This wasn’t him. He was a careful person who didn’t get involved with anyone because he was here to study and to graduate with honors. He didn’t know what was going on with him but frankly, he didn’t really give a fuck anymore. Right now, all Kyungsoo knew was that he wanted Jongin, wanted more of him. 

Then Jongin’s wet mouth was moving over his earlobe, his teeth and tongue dragging over the flesh gently. Hot tingles traveled down his neck, right down to his cock and when Jongin moved his elegant, bony hips against Kyungsoo’s not-so-bony ones, Kyungsoo thought he might die from the throbbing sensations. 

_I like you so much, Kyungsoo_ , Jongin said softly as he left kisses along his collarbones and nosed the curve of pale skin between his neck and shoulder. _Please,_ he whispered again and Kyungsoo’s fingers rearranged themselves around the braids. . .and yanked. Slowly, Jongin’s head dropped back in what looked like ecstasy, his unrestrained moans intensifying the desire Kyungsoo felt for the tall, beautiful boy who had upset the order of his existence so completely. 

But while Jongin’s reactions were turning him on, Kyungsoo couldn't deny that when he touched Jongin’s hair and pulled on it, his toes curled and his groin ached all on their own. Doing it seemed to fulfill some kind of need in him he'd never even known he had; it made him feel almost. . .free. He couldn’t even begin to understand because he'd never even liked long hair on guys till Jongin, and he'd certainly never felt any desire to pull anyone's hair, period.

But there was no time for further self reflection as Jongin began kissing him again, his mouth devouring Kyungsoo’s—hot and demanding and so so good. _I should stop this._ Kyungsoo’s conscience made one last ditch effort to hold him back but he ignored it as he pushed his body closer to Jongin’s. Their mouths latched together, tongues probing as Jongin’s hand snuck beneath his clothes, palm moving urgently up his back and over his bare shoulder blades. 

“I want—” Jongin whispered softly as he rocked his hips against Kyungsoo’s. 

“What do you want, Jongin?” he asked as he nibbled on his collarbones.

“You, I want you—” 

“You have me,” 

“Please,” he said finally and Kyungsoo understood. The sensations had built up so badly by now that everything felt too sensitive and Kyungsoo reached both hands up, tangling his fingers in Jongin’s braids.

“Jongin,” Kyungsoo said as he pulled the beautiful hair and the aching became too much, their hips grinding and mouths moaning their desire for each other. Desperately, hungrily, they kissed with Jongin's hands clutching at Kyungsoo's shoulders and the small of his back and Kyungsoo's fingers running through his hair and tugging at it—firm and slow. Each tug made Kyungsoo's cock ache heavily in his pants and he wished more than anything to unzip them and relieve the pressure—but he hadn't lost all reason. They might have been out of view in the trees but anyone could walk by and discover them. 

Jongin’s hands and mouth were tattooing his skin with hot white touches, and Kyungsoo’s head soon emptied of all thought—his mind swirling wildly with emotions and sensations. Their hips thrusting urgently at each other, the pressure climbed and built, up and up till everything exploded in warm waves of pleasure—their throaty moans swallowed up in breathless, panting kisses.

 _Thank you,_ Jongin whispered and Kyungsoo barely heard the blissed out words as he lost himself to the most intense orgasm he’d ever had, maybe would ever have. . .

• • •

Still panting, they stood in each other's arms, hearts racing and puffy lips slick and pink. Kyungsoo could hear the quick, strong heartbeat echoing beneath his cheek and he didn't want to move—even if there was an uncomfortable wetness in the front of his jeans that he didn't want to think about right now (or ever, for that matter).

"Kyungsoo?" Jongin said his name quietly, fingers strumming Kyungsoo’s back in slow and soothing strokes.

“Hmmm?” Contented, Kyungsoo snuggled closer. He didn’t want to think about how inappropriate this was or how awkward this was about to get in the next few minutes. He just wanted to enjoy being in Jongin’s arms for just a little while longer—before reality had a chance to rear its ugly head.

"I'm sorry. I didn't actually, well. . .I mean I wasn't planning to do all that—" Jongin's words faded into the quiet of the night as he plucked nervously at his own hoodie strings.

“Are you apologizing? For giving me the best orgasm of my life?” It had been the most unexpected night and Kyungsoo had done a whole bunch of things he would never have seen himself doing with a guy he’d only known for a few weeks. All things considered, he thought he might as well just be candid and admit he’d had a hella good time and assure Jongin that he had nothing to be sorry for. Shocked by his answer, Jongin burst into laughter. 

“That was not the reaction I was expecting," and for the first time that evening, Jongin gave a smile that wasn't tentative and it was a relief to see the fine lines of mirth wrinkle his face in the most attractive way. It comforted Kyungsoo to see open joy in his eyes again; Jongin had looked so guarded tonight and it had made him uneasy. His smile was something Kyungsoo had grown accustomed to. He missed it when it wasn't there—he realized this now.

“What reaction were you expecting? Shock? Horror? I enjoyed it—whatever _it_ is that just happened between us. I’m not going to pretend I didn’t.” Having his face buried in indigo fabric made it easier for Kyungsoo to be honest. He wasn’t sure he could have been as candid if he’d been looking Jongin in the eye.

“I’m so glad you don’t hate me. I really didn’t plan to just y’know, make out with you and. . .ah, this is so hard. I don’t even know what I’m saying,” Jongin made a frustrated noise before resting his cheek on Kyungsoo’s shoulder. And the weight of his head on his shoulder was nice. It was really nice and Kyungsoo couldn’t help running his fingers through his braids. 

"What were you planning?” Kyungsoo asked—not making any effort to disguise the curiosity in his voice.

"I don't really know. I wasn't thinking much at all beyond how I really liked what you did with my hair and I wanted you to do it again. I wasn't planning _anything_ at all—I don’t think I even knew how to think in sentences anymore, let alone make any plans. I mean you touching my hair was like, maybe you liked me too? And that was just more than I'd ever hoped for because you're always so. . .platonic," Jongin gave a slightly sad smile. "I'm sure it's pretty obvious I've had a huge crush on you since practically day 1."

" _No one_ has crushes on me."

"I did, I do. Why do you think I kept borrowing your pen?"

"Because you were too lazy to take yours out? Because you wanted to give me a hard time? I didn't really analyze it all that much."

"You know mangas and animes always make a big deal about how sharing a drink or a cigarette is like an indirect kiss, right?"

"I've never actually um. . .read a manga."

"Are you serious?!"

"I'm sorry, ok? I study. A lot. Like really a lot. I'm a really boring guy."

"You're not! You're anything but boring!" Jongin looked almost offended by Kyungsoo's assessment of his own nature.

"I _am_! But okay never mind. What's the deal with the pen? And what the hell is an indirect kiss?"

"Like when two people who are attracted to each other drink from the same cup or can and it's kinda like there's an exchange of spit you'd get from a kiss."

"That's gross," Kyungsoo made a face.

"Do you find my kisses gross?"

"No! No your kisses aren't—they’re not gross at all. I would actually really like to kiss you again," he barely got the clumsy confession out before his face was in Jongin's hands and his lips engaged with his. The kiss was tentative and tender and made Kyungsoo’s heart race and trip and soar and hurt—all at the same time. And when Jongin broke away from the kiss, he had this _look_ on his face, like Kyungsoo was the most important thing in his world. No one had ever looked at him that way. He wanted to ask what the look on Jongin's face meant but instead he asked why a ball pen had anything to do with an indirect kiss.

"You hold your pen, then I hold your pen and then you hold your pen again and it’s like. . .?”

“The pen gets held a lot, I get it. What I don’t get is how this has anything to do with an indirect kiss,” Kyungsoo shrugged. Then Jongin was taking his hand in his, and with the chill of early autumn nipping at his nose and ears and cheeks, Kyungsoo was grateful for the warmth of Jongin's hand wrapped around his. 

“Imagine my hand is a ballpoint pen, and you’re holding it,” Jongin smiled, more than a little sheepishly.

“Indirect handholding?! I can't believe you! Jongin, you dumb ass!” Kyungsoo swatted his shoulder and Jongin laughed, hanging on to the hand that lay in his own. Braids swinging and eyes crinkled in mirth, Jongin made his blood rush. "You came up with this dumb scenario and that's why you borrowed my pen that first time?"

"No! I legit didn't have a pen on me that first time. And I walked in and saw this guy sitting in the second row. I'm more of a second or third row kinda guy. The first row isn't really my style. But you looked so serious, like you were waiting for me to head for the back row and I just wanted to prove you wrong. Also, you looked really cute with your glasses and your neat haircut.”

“I looked like a nerd, you mean? _I still_ look like a nerd.”

“I don’t care how you dress or what you look like, Kyungsoo, beyond the fact that I like it and I like you and I want to be with you. . . _all the time_.”

“I—I don’t know what to say, Jongin. This whole night has been so far out of my comfort zone I don’t even know myself.”

“Do you like me? At least a bit?”

“Fuck yes, I like you. I wouldn’t have let you kiss me and. . .all those other things if I didn't like you." Kyungsoo's fingers played with the silver earrings that adorned Jongin's earlobes and he moaned slightly at Kyungsoo's touch.

“I’m so glad; because I like you so much, Kyungsoo,” Jongin tilted his face, lips sliding over Kyungsoo's like it was the most natural thing to do—like it was something they'd always done.

"Why didn't you just sit next to me then? Instead of sitting in front of me?"

"I wanted to so much, but I knew that if I'd sat next to you, I wouldn't have listened to a word Spindler said; and you know I love to write. Also, if I'd sat next to you all semester, every class would literally have been me spending 45 minutes trying not to pull you into my lap and kiss you in front of an entire class of gawkers."

"Rubbish. I don't. . .no one wants to do things like that to me. I'm not even that cute."

"Yes, Kyungsoo, you are. And without your glasses on, you're not just cute, you're really handsome."

"That's BS. Where are my glasses anyway? I can't see so well without them." 

Jongin sighed, muttering that he was handsome no matter how much he refused to believe it. Then he was reaching into his back pocket, carefully putting Kyungsoo's plastic frames on, his fingertips brushing his cheeks and the sides of his face—the gentle caresses titillating Kyungsoo's skin.

"Handsome," Jongin said quietly as he pushed Kyungsoo's fringe out of his eyes.

"I need a haircut." 

"I like the long fringe, it's. . .rakish. Don't cut it," Jongin continued to play with his hair.

"Rakish? What does that mean?"

"Dashing? Kind of wild? Dangerous?"

"All the things I'm not," Kyungsoo snorted.

"Shhh," Jongin placed his index finger over his lips, "It doesn’t matter to me." Then he was kissing him again, the tips of his hair brushing against Kyungsoo's shoulders and the scent of peppermint and that. . .other thing wafted up—teasing Kyungsoo's senses.

“What is that?” Kyungsoo didn’t even realize he’d said the words out loud until he heard Jongin asking him what he meant.

“Your hair. I smell peppermint but I can’t figure out the other thing,”

“It’s tea tree oil. I like the way it makes my scalp feel all tingly when I use it. Does it smell weird?”

“No. No, Jongin, it smells wonderful.” _You smell wonderful_ , Kyungsoo didn’t say. 

"What happened with—?" Kyungsoo touched Jongin's hair, his voice rife with curiosity.

"Ah it was just stupid. You remember how I told you that my friends and I do dumb ass things when we get together? Well, Sehun and Luhan and I did a Jägerbomb challenge and the loser had to either clean the other two's dorm rooms for a week or get their hair braided and wear the braids for two weeks. I mean they're so goddamn messy! I wasn't going to clean their rooms for two hours let alone fourteen days! So I opted for the hair thing." Jongin's left hand brushed his braids self-consciously—the gesture filled with regret.

"Jägerbombs? I hope you don't drink those all the time?" A note of disapproval crept into Kyungsoo's voice. 

"I don't! I'm not! I'm a really bad drinker. I usually just take beer. It's just. . .it was Jongdae's birthday and Luhan said I had to take shots with them because I couldn't disappoint the birthday boy. That's how I ended up in this mess," Jongin said miserably.

"It's not."

"It's not?"

"Your hair isn't a mess," Kyungsoo said and his fingers itched to touch them again. They'd been so soft and silky to touch, despite the dips and bumps of the braids. Whoever Jongin's friends Sehun and Luhan were? He was cursing them to the depths of hell for coming up with the stupid bet that had probably just flushed his illustrious university career down the toilet. 

If Jongin hadn’t shown up in braids, maybe Kyungsoo could have held out till the end of the semester before he grabbed his hair. If Sehun and Luhan hadn’t thrown temptation his way, if it hadn’t been Jongdae’s birthday. . .? But who was he trying to kid? He didn't want to fling fireballs at Sehun and Luhan, he wanted to send them fruit baskets and a lifetime subscription to _PC Gamer_! And maybe even clean their dorm rooms for the next two months—that was how grateful he was that Jongin had lost their dumb bet.

"Kyungsoo, I wanted to ask you this before we made out but things got a little hectic,"

"Yes?"

"Will you go out with me? So we can sit next to each other in the next class and I can hold your hand instead of your ball pen?"

" _No one_ asks me out!"

"Well I'm asking you _because_ I don't want anyone else asking you out."

"I'm supposed to focus on studying," Kyungsoo protested, "I'm not supposed to date till I finish college."

"I promise I won't distract you from your GPA—we can study together. And take breaks together," Jongin said persuasively, leaving searing kisses all over Kyungsoo's neck.

"You're already distracting me and I haven't even said yes yet!"

"I promise I’ll be the best boyfriend. I’ll get you coffee when you have assignments due and stay up with you and I’ll keep you company in the library when you have to study. _And_ I’ll study too and work on getting my GPA up." 

"What’s your GPA?"

“3.67?”

“Ugh, I hate you,” Kyungsoo glared at him, looking more than a little aggrieved at Jongin’s more than decent grade point average.

"Is that a yes?"

"Just kiss me," Kyungsoo grumbled as his hand curved around Jongin’s neck and their lips met in a hurry—Jongin’s tongue slipping eagerly into his mouth like it belonged, had always belonged.

Surrounded by Jongin's warmth and the minty scent of his shampoo mixed with the citrusy notes of his aftershave, Kyungsoo remembered the words he'd written down in class earlier that night, _Bliss. This is bliss_.

 

**Epilogue**

_11.27 PM_.

Kyungsoo groaned as the red digits stared insolently back at him. He’d been trying to fall asleep for the past thirty-seven minutes and he was _this_ close to flinging his alarm clock at the wall. His roommate Yixing would normally be snoring a symphony by now (which wasn’t an issue because Kyungsoo could sleep through a hurricane), not to mention he would usually be asleep himself since he usually went to bed way before Yixing anyway. 

He'd always suspected that he wore his brain out so badly cramming it with facts all day that it literally collapsed from exhaustion at the end of the day, and that was why nothing could keep it awake, not even Yixing. But it was so deathly quiet now in the room they shared, that Kyungsoo actually found himself missing his roommate’s noisy snores. 

Yixing had announced, as he was leaving that evening, that he'd be spending the night at Minseok's place. Kyungsoo had nodded, barely even looking up from the algorithms he was struggling with. Minseok was an interior designer who lived and worked in the city; he and Yixing had been dating for a year now and more often than not, Yixing stayed over at his place once or twice a week.

It was Saturday—nine days since Jongin had upended his life so radically Kyungsoo didn’t even recognize it anymore. It was also three days since he’d last seen him and he’d been disgusted at how edgy Jongin's absence had made him. Jongin (he refused to call him his boyfriend because that was just too sappy for words and Kyungsoo was anything but sappy) had gone back to his hometown for his cousin’s wedding on Wednesday. Thursday tutorial had been weird and lonely without him around. 

On Tuesday, Jongin had sat down next to Kyungsoo before class started, grinning cheekily, _who needs the first row when I can sit in the second?_ Then he’d insisted on borrowing Kyungsoo’s ballpen, _again_ , much to Kyungsoo’s wild-eyed annoyance. But before Kyungsoo could demand that he use his own ballpen, Jongin’s left hand had reached for Kyungsoo’s right one, and held it tight, their joined hands resting on Jongin’s thigh. Kyungsoo’s words of protest had instantly died on his tongue. 

For the rest of the lecture, their hands had stayed this way while they took down notes and stared at lecture slides—Jongin writing with his right hand and Kyungsoo with his left. _See? You’re a leftie and I’m a right hander. Even the universe is conspiring to make it so we can hold hands during classes,_ Jongin had teased him just before Kyungsoo elbowed him in the waist for being an idiot with lame ass logic (but he’d let Jongin hold his hand for the rest of class anyway).

Jongin had texted him regularly since his midweek departure, talking about random things he’d seen and done in his hometown. His last text had ended with: _why is Sunday evening so far away? I miss you_. He’d replied by telling him mundane things and finishing off with an awkward _see you soon, Jongin_. If Jongin was frustrated by his complete lack of romance, he didn’t show it—replying with an upbeat _can’t wait_. That had been six hours ago and now Kyungsoo found himself lying in bed with the lights off, missing Jongin even if he’d refused to admit it to him. It was fucking annoying.

_What are you doing, Jongin? Where are you? Why is Sunday evening so far away?_

A few seconds later, he whispered in the dark, so softly he could barely hear the words himself, “I miss you too.”

And that’s when he heard them—a series of gentle tapping sounds which sounded very much like knuckles on glass. Apprehensive, he switched on his bedside lamp before walking over to the window, and getting ready to peer through one side of the curtains rather than pulling them open straight away. What if it were some deranged intruder? He shouldn't even be looking but what if it were someone he knew in need of help? Gulping, he grabbed the edges of the nondescript gray fabric and held it away from the window, squinting because he'd forgotten to put on his glasses. 

It was dark outside but the figure in the window looked a lot like. . .Jongin? But it couldn’t be him. Because Jongin was in Woodvale for a wedding. He stared at the boy in the window, his chest full and tight—joy and anticipation threatening to spill its banks. But Jongin didn’t need to know any of this, Kyungsoo decided, as he pushed open the window. 

"What are you doing out there?!” Kyungsoo hissed, “You’re supposed to be in Woodvale!”

“Are you gonna let me in or not? It’s freezing out here!” Jongin emphasized the point by rubbing his arms, shivering. Frowning and sighing, he stepped aside so Jongin could lower his long, lean body and ease it through the gap. Before he could close the window though, Kyungsoo found himself wrapped securely in Jongin’s arms, his face squashed against hard collarbones.

“You’re supposed to be back tomorrow evening,”

“I wanted to see you," Jongin said simply, his lips against Kyungsoo's hair and his arms pulling Kyungsoo closer. 

“You would have seen me tomorrow.”

“I didn’t want to wait anymore.” And then they were kissing and Kyungsoo hadn’t even realized just how much he’d missed this. Had it only been nine days since they’d kissed for the first time? Eyes closed, Kyungsoo’s fingers reached almost shyly for Jongin’s braids. But instead of tight cornrows and braids, there were fine, soft strands of hair caught between his fingers. 

“Jongin, your hair?”

“Yeah, my mom said she’d whoop my ass if I went for my cousin’s wedding in braids because people would think I was trying to upstage the bride. As if I’d ever want to!” he chuckled. “Then she called Sehun and Lu Han and gave them a piece of her mind about dumbshit bets and that she was cutting my cornrow sentence short and commuting it so I’d be cleaning their dorm rooms for X number of days. I love my mom but sometimes I wish she wasn’t so _fair_. Like couldn’t she just have got me off the hook completely? I am so not looking forward to cleaning their filthy dorm rooms, goddammit. No more Jägerbombs. No more dumb bets.”

“Bets aren’t so bad. Sometimes,” Kyungsoo gave a wry smile. 

“Is this okay? Did you prefer the braids?” Suddenly looking a little dejected, Jongin tugged the ends of his glossy straight hair.

“No. I’ve been wanting to touch this all semester and now I finally can.” Kyungsoo forced himself to be calm, his fingers threading through Jongin’s black, silky hair, his nose pressed against his neck—breathing in his clean, masculine scent. 

"Did you lend your ballpen to anyone on Thursday?" Jongin nuzzled his hair and Kyungsoo wondered if, like him, Jongin was wondering what shampoo he used.

"No one else borrows anything from me,"

"Did Chanyeol try to pick you up?" he asked and Kyungsoo laughed because this was pretty much the last thing he'd expected Jongin to say to him.

"Why would he?! I'm not exactly his type?"

"Please, he's been trying to ask you out all semester! I've just been cockblocking him is all."

"Park Chanyeol trying to ask me out? That's the craziest thing I've ever heard."

"So you're sure he didn't try anything?" Jongin actually sounded. . .jealous, and it made Kyungsoo unacceptably pleased.

"Of course not. Well he did sit in the front row when you were gone. He always wanted that seat anyway. But I told him to piss off because his Mohawk was blocking my view of the board."

"He actually left?"

"Well, he called me a _picky asshole_ but he moved into my row so I couldn't accuse him of blocking me anymore."

"He sat next to you?!" 

"Well, yeah. But he was at least two feet away."

"And he didn't try to ask you out?"

"NO!"

"Good," Jongin stepped closer.

"You're ridiculous," Kyungsoo said just before Jongin's fingers stroked his nape, mouth fitting gently over his. 

"Jongin," Kyungsoo's lips parted, his voice breathy as they kissed—Jongin's hands caressing his nape. 

"Yes?"

"Stay the night." It was definitely too soon for them to be having sleepovers and he should really be getting up early the next morning to study, but Jongin was standing before him and he was so beautiful and Kyungsoo couldn't find it in himself to give a shit about algorithms and data structures right now—they could just go fuck themselves.

"But your roommate?"

"Is not coming back till tomorrow evening. He's not me; he has a life."

"You _have_ a life. You just choose to spend most of it trapped between the pages of textbooks. But I'll try to drag you out once in a while if that's okay with you."

"I can feel my GPA plummeting already," Kyungsoo grumbled.

"It won't! I'll be careful not to distract you too much," Jongin’s throaty laugh filled the spaces in Kyungsoo’s insides, making them flutter with warmth and. . .other things. Biting his lower lip, Kyungsoo reached up, letting his fingers trail over Jongin's scalp. The hair was so fine and silky against his skin and Jongin's soft moans so pretty, and Kyungsoo still couldn't quite believe this was happening to him. That someone like Jongin would want to be with someone like him.

"You're so beautiful," Jongin whispered, his lips warm against Kyungsoo's neck.

"I'm not—"

"To me you are," he said as he moved to the nearest bed (thankfully his and not Yixing's), dragging Kyungsoo with him. He never took his eyes off Kyungsoo as he sat down, the mattress sagging beneath him. "To me, you're just beautiful." Jongin's arms reached around Kyungsoo's waist and pulled him in so his cheek lay against Kyungsoo's chest—right over his heart. Jongin was going to hear his heart racing; Jongin was going to know just how much his nearness affected Kyungsoo and he braced himself for the teasing that was sure to come. 

But instead of teasing, he heard the words, _Can you feel my heart racing too?_

Placing his palm over Jongin's chest, Kyungsoo felt his heart beating beneath his touch, a little too fast but sure. "Yes."

"I guess we're both a little nervous," Jongin smiled self-consciously before burrowing his head further into Kyungsoo's chest, his hands spread over the small of his back. His jean-covered thighs were pressing gently on both sides of his waist as Kyungsoo stood, cradled against him. It was intimate, but mostly it just felt like. . .belonging.

"It's the first time I've ever asked anyone to stay over, so yeah. . .kinda nervous," Kyungsoo admitted, his fingers stroking Jongin’s hair—playing with the ends.

"I really like it when you touch my hair.” Jongin’s mouth had found his collarbones and the warm sensations swirled beneath his skin at the press of his lips and the wet tip of his tongue. Lower and lower down the warmth traveled, from his chest to his tummy and further down still. Then Jongin was pulling him towards him; and a flurry of shifting limbs and hurried moans later, Kyungsoo found himself straddling Jongin’s thighs, their eager mouths fused together—hungry and possessive. 

Hands roamed over his heated skin and Kyungsoo had to remind himself to breathe because this couldn’t be actually happening. Not to him, he gulped. And Jongin seemed to sense that he needed a moment because he ended their kiss, panting slightly. When his breaths had evened out, Jongin just hugged him and held him close, oh so close to his chest. Sighing with a mixture of relief and disappointment, Kyungsoo relaxed into his embrace—trying really hard to ignore how hard he was, especially pressed up against Jongin the way he was. 

“I missed you,” Jongin said as leaned further into Kyungsoo, “I missed borrowing your pen and I missed the way you always roll your eyes at me when you’re handing it to me. I missed reading the things you write. I missed your sarcasm and I just missed _you_ , Do Kyungsoo. Did you miss me? You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to.” 

“I. . .might have.”

“Might have? Well, I guess that’s better than an outright no,” Jongin kissed him again and Kyungsoo swore he could taste the smile on his lips.

“I kinda did,” he finally confessed—so softly it was almost imperceptible.

“You kinda missed me?” Jongin’s warm breath fluttered over the shell of his ear, and he felt it low in his gut.

“Just. . .goddammit just—” Then Kyungsoo ran out of words and just grabbed Jongin’s face, kissing him hard. Surrendering to pure instinct, his tongue danced with Jongin’s, hands reaching under Jongin’s hoodie and shirt—fingers skating over ribs and flat belly and smooth, smooth skin. Eyes closed, Kyungsoo rocked his hips, moaning as Jongin moved with him and a penetrating ache flooded his groin. 

Cool air pricked at his skin as Jongin bared one pale shoulder and dusted kisses on it. It felt so good to have his mouth on his skin, to feel the heat and the building tension as their cocks pressed and rubbed against each other—Jongin’s jeans and Kyungsoo’s track pants the only things in their way. Kyungsoo wanted desperately to be skin against skin with Jongin, the need pushing at the edges of his skin, but it was too soon for that. He wasn’t quite ready for everything that involved. Not just yet (not to mention he’d never bought a condom in his life and this wasn’t happening without one).

“I want you so much,” Jongin’s voice was low and husky as he nuzzled Kyungsoo’s neck, his hair swinging and the ends tickling Kyungsoo’s collarbones. Then his palms explored the contours of Kyungsoo’s back, dipping tentatively beneath his waistband so they could slide across his narrow hips. . .real slow. Kyungsoo’s hips bucked, cock twitching, as Jongin’s hands moved past his hips and across his stomach. Jongin wasn’t even touching his cock but he might as well have done for all the strain it was under. He wondered what it would be like to have Jongin’s long, slender fingers wrapped around him. He’d never felt anyone’s hand on his cock other than his own, and a huge part of him really really wanted Jongin to— 

Then all the thoughts flew out of Kyungsoo’s head as Jongin’s hand reached between their bodies and stroked him through thick cotton, fingers dragging slowly over his erection. The deep ache grew, becoming more and more unbearable and it felt so so good but Kyungsoo knew it wasn’t enough. It just wasn’t enough. Impatiently, Kyungsoo placed his hand over Jongin’s—their fingers almost the same length—and guided it under the waistband of his pants.

“Kyungsoo, are you sure?” Jongin sounded like he was in pain as his hand came into contact with. . . _skin to skin_ , Kyungsoo didn’t say as he moaned and pressed closer into Jongin’s touch. Glossy black strands of hair brushed against his jaw, teasing Kyungsoo’s senses with the scent of peppermint and tea tree oil. He’d grown to love that scent almost as much as he loved the long hair and loved tugging on it.

“Can I?” Kyungsoo asked as his hand moved searchingly over the bulge in Jongin’s jeans and the other boy groaned, barely managing to nod, _yes_. Kyungsoo was an even bigger wreck at the mercy of Jongin’s hand and he had to force himself to concentrate as he got off Jongin’s lap and kneeled beside him—undoing the button of his fly with fingers that were shaky and unsure. This should have been easy; he knew how to button and unzip jeans and yet his fingers kept fumbling because he’d never done this for someone else before. It took him a while but finally, he managed to ease the zipper down to the base and push his plain black briefs and jeans out of the way. Exhaling nervously, he took hold of Jongin’s dick, curved, erect and beautiful, and pulled. . .and tugged. . .and pulled again—the skin hot and dry and smooth in his grip.

Small moans filled the room as they lay down beside each other on the bed, exploring each other’s bodies and pleasuring each other. Minutes later, Jongin released his hold on Kyungsoo, and carefully pulled him on top of him. Eyes dark with desire, Jongin reached up and kissed him, midnight hair spilling over his shoulders. When their hips were perfectly aligned, they began to move—hips grinding and cocks rubbing against stomachs, bare thighs touching and mouths leaving kisses on flushed skin. Faster and faster they rocked, with Jongin whispering Kyungsoo’s name—telling him how beautiful he was. Meanwhile, Kyungsoo ran his hands through Jongin’s hair, fingertips raking his scalp while Jongin writhed. Kyungsoo tried to hold on as the knot of need grew tighter and tighter with every move their bodies made in unison. The pace grew increasingly frantic, the knot becoming tighter and more consuming until finally Jongin begged him to _please, please just—_ and Kyungsoo grabbed a handful of hair between his fingers and. . .tugged. And at that moment, everything unraveled and they came—their bodies awash with rapture.

• • •

Later, they’d wiped each other off with tissues and it had only been slightly awkward (because really, how awkward could you be with a person when you’d already had their dick in your hand?). Tired and sated, they’d climbed into Kyungsoo’s narrow single bed with Kyungsoo lying nearest to the wall while Jongin spooned him.

“Jongin?”

“Hmm?”

“We should probably take our shirts off the next time we make out,” Kyungsoo made the observation in his usual abrupt, deadpan style and Jongin laughed.

“I’ll try to remember,” Jongin chuckled, the laugh vibrating pleasantly against his back. “Thanks for asking me to stay, Kyungsoo. . .and well, thank you for everything.”

“Okay.”

“That’s really eloquent, Kyungsoo,” he laughed again and Kyungsoo loved the way Jongin’s laugh felt against his back.

“Fine. Thank you for giving me the best orgasm I’ve ever had.”

“You said that the first time we made out.”

“And I meant it. But this one was better. Now shut up and go to sleep. I have algorithms and data structures to get through tomorrow morning and no one had better get in my way.”

“I wouldn’t dare. I’ll even get coffee! Good night, Kyungsoo,” Jongin said as he kissed his nape. Jongin liked kissing and nuzzling his neck, he’d noticed. It was a good thing he enjoyed the attention.

“Goodnight, Jongin.” Kyungsoo thought about being all aloof like he usually was but then he thought about how there was a beautiful boy in his bed, and in the end, he couldn’t stop himself from turning around to give Jongin a lingering kiss. 

“Goodnight, Kyungsoo,” Jongin smiled when the kiss ended. Then, with a contented sigh, Jongin curved his body around Kyungsoo’s—one arm draped across his chest and fingers curled over Kyungsoo’s heart. As he closed his eyes and snuggled into Jongin's warmth, the words echoed quietly but firmly in Kyungsoo’s head, _Bliss. This is bliss._

 

**~fin**

A/N: thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are very much loved ♡


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